


Crossed Wires

by kheradihr



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, captain america: civil war - Fandom
Genre: Bloodplay, Emotional Fallout, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve gets punched, bad reactions to good things, bloodplay in your makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 11:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6903421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kheradihr/pseuds/kheradihr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere between the Civil War and the first in-credit scene, Steve and Bucky get a moment together. Being who they are, it goes about as expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossed Wires

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theyoungdoyler](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=theyoungdoyler).



> This fic was inspired by my friend [Jenn's](http://www.twitter.com/theyoungdoyler) [Stucky comic](http://theyoungdoyley.tumblr.com/post/144305708460). Feel free to read it before reading this!

     It’s not the first time Bucky has plugged Steve in the face. It may also happen enough the dull slap of skin against one of Steve’s ridiculously chiseled cheeks and the resulting thump of all of Steve’s bulk on the floor – he refuses to guard himself from Bucky, he decided that the moment Bucky came back from the dead – that Sam doesn’t come into the room half-ready for a fight anymore. In honesty, all Sam does yell is something along the lines of not letting anything get stained.

     Each time it happens Bucky is shaking from two separate sources of horror: the horror of half remembered memories and the horror that he once again hurt the one thing that anchored some part of his soul long enough so he could come back. Usually Steve is up without much of a pause, eyes understanding and hands gentle in empirically proven safe places, the mantra of “I’m good Buck. You’re safe. I need to stop being surprised you punch left first now.” and other gentle sweet things that were only sweet because ‘ _what the hell are those two saying Rogers and Barnes are fucking speaking their own language, how the hell is Carter the only one who can understand them_ ’. Bucky usually has the rest of his panic attack/episode – fuck why are there so many words for one terrible thing – with Steve standing near him, always physically present in a way that anchor on his soul wasn’t.

     Not this time.

     Bucky dropped into a squat, furious that once again he hit Steve. He’s fine with the ghosts on his back, his arm, the gaping parts of his memory with nothing but a chapped smile and deep cold. He’s not fine with seeing Steve’s blood dripping down onto the floor – this time tile, Steve cornered Bucky in the shitty bathroom of this safehouse – or that Steve is popping his jaw back in place. The grimace where an inappropriate smile should be as Steve probably went down on him – of course Steve would have a fixation on something that he can do now that his lungs worked – felt raw like open wires in his arm during repairs.

     “Steve.”

     He looked at Bucky instantly, no hesitation even as he tried to catch blood streaming down his nose. Smiled crookedly after finding Bucky at his level.

     “Yeah Buck.”

     It was never a question, just acceptance. That hadn’t changed in the near century they’d known each other so Bucky dropped fully onto his ass and took Steve’s bloody hand away from his face.

     Bucky wan’t unfamiliar with the taste of blood in his mouth. Fist fights, dames slapping him, war were all reasons he tasted his own and occasionally someone else’s when their blood sprayed on him. He had never tasted Steve’s until now, his fingers placed on Bucky’s lips, smearing slightly with how much Bucky trembled. It tasted like blood, nothing really extraordinary as Bucky opened his mouth and pushed Steve’s fingers further into his mouth. It was the knowledge that the blood was Steve’s that had him swallowing around the fingers, leaning into Steve as he sat up, eyes intent on Bucky.

     He cleaned Steve’s hand with the precision of sniping a target, like Steve’s blood was Communion wine and he was long past due to take it. As he let the now clean fingers go he opened his eyes to see Steve sitting close, shins pressed against his, blood dripping from the bloody nose and gathering with the blood from the split lip on Steve’s chin. Gravity tugged at the pooling blood.

     Steve shivered as Bucky’s tongue curled under his chin and lapped at the blood. Bucky snickered against him, the irony of Bucky stabilizing as Steve was beginning to come undone thick as the blood quite literally between them. Unfamiliar in their warmth, Bucky remembered the touch but smaller, with poor circulation, Steve’s fingers gripped into Bucky’s shirt where it met jean. Bucky dragged his tongue up Steve’s chin, a terrible parody of what Steve had been doing to Bucky’s neck just minutes ago. His lip was clotting and Bucky was gentle with that side of Steve’s lips, only licking at the cut instead of nibbling away the blood that got caught in chapped lips – some things hadn’t changed even after the serum.

     “Buck,” was caught between a gasp and a sigh, a prayer half mumbled in church pews and Bucky realized he was on his knees, even closer to Steve, trapped by Steve’s legs over his thighs, hands splayed obscenely close to Steve’s perfect ass, like a supplicant prostrated before God.

     Steve’s nose twitched as Bucky continued to clean every cell of blood off of Steve’s face. In the twitch was memories of Steve sneezing against his mother’s weekly bouquet – a habit that didn’t stop after her death. Steve was steadfast in everything, even as Bucky sucked the tip of his nose to remove the last speck of blood. Now there was no evidence of Bucky’s crime, just Steve, blushing red like Peggy’s lipstick, pulling Bucky even closer to press a chaste kiss against his lips before resting their foreheads together. Bucky’s stomach squirmed in recognition that Steve’s precious blood was inside him, safe from anyone who would want it. He would never give it up.

     “You okay, buddy?” He sounded shaky and uncomfortable in ways that Bucky knew was a good thing. His pants were tight for the same reason.

     “I am now.”


End file.
